


we're in the night that i won't recall

by juncheol



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, I am in love with Home Run era outfits, Jun has glasses, M/M, Minghao puts up with a lot of bullshit for his friends, Pining, Practice Kissing, Tutoring, did i mention i enjoy human suffering, kissing negotiations, minghao is a plot device, the author knows not what "pure fluff" is so here's like 20k of absurd pining dialogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28430916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juncheol/pseuds/juncheol
Summary: “Come on, be more confident in yourself.”“I am confident,” Junhui mumbles. And he’s not lying, it’s just—Seungcheol leans forward until he’s only inches away from him, a hand cupped to his ear as he dips his head to catch Junhui’s downward gaze, soft raven hair falling over pale skin and shining brown eyes. “What was that?”—it’s just Seungcheol.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 31
Kudos: 105
Collections: Seventeen Rare Pair Fest: 2 Rare 2 Pair





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SVTRarePairFest2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SVTRarePairFest2) collection. 



> title from "yes" by demian because good gravy, that boy's voice is something else.
> 
> i'd just like to add a little disclaimer here: there is some underage drinking/spiked drinking shown in the beginning of the story. it only happens to one character, and nobody takes advantage of them, but i'd still like to put that out there ahead of time. it's a one time thing and will be addressed properly later on, but yeah.

Joshua finds Junhui right as he’s biting into his third slice of pizza, the hot grease and pepperoni burning the tip of his tongue and making him hiss while Minghao stares at him in silent disgust. He swallows it down anyway, pretends everything is fine because Joshua is walking over—and wherever Joshua goes, Seungcheol always seems to follow. Joshua says something to Seungcheol, an elbow prodding at his gut as he points to them for some reason. Junhui steps closer to Minghao.

Even when having to shout over the pounding music, Joshua’s voice is soft. “Glad to see you guys could make it.” It’s an odd statement. Joshua isn’t the one hosting this party—it’s Soonyoung, who made sure everyone promised to be here no matter what. And Junhui’s not one to pass up on free food, nor is Minghao one to pass on an excuse to dress up. Joshua seems to take note of this last fact, nodding his head at the multiple silver loops decorating the shell of Minghao’s ear. “Sick piercings.”

Minghao shrugs, but Junhui has known him long enough to know Minghao’s positively preening on the inside. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking of getting another helix, but I don’t know any good places to get one. The shop near school is kind of sketchy, you know?”

Joshua leans closer to Minghao, a hand pointing to the black bar sitting in his ear. He grins at Minghao’s falter in expression. “I got my industrial done by a friend downtown, she opened her shop about a month ago. You should try there.”

As Minghao and Joshua talk about their piercings at a surprisingly close proximity—Minghao has this _thing_ about personal bubbles, or whatever—Junhui realizes that Seungcheol is staring at him from behind Joshua’s shoulder, like a child peeking behind a door, wide-eyed and curious. Junhui would laugh but it’s not like _he_ can judge—just the idea of talking to Seungcheol is giving him indigestion, insides churning when he steps around Joshua.

Seungcheol stuffs his hands into the pockets of his worn out letterman jacket. He’s close enough that he can speak without shouting, can see how Junhui is purposely avoiding eye contact. “Hey, Jun.”

Junhui offers him a smile, his grip on his paper plate weakening for just a moment. “Hi, hyung.”

“Have you been here long?” Seungcheol asks. “I didn’t see you walk in.”

Okay, small talk—he can work with that. “Oh, maybe like twenty minutes ago? We were supposed to get here earlier but…” Junhui deftly motions to Minghao, laughing. “Hao couldn’t decide on an outfit. I should’ve just taken a taxi—he loves being fashionably late.”

“I could’ve taken you,” Seungcheol says.

Junhui blinks. “Hmm? Oh— No, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way just to pick me up.”

Seungcheol gives him a look. “You live across the street from me.”

“Well, y-yeah,” he flounders. “But I… Wait, didn’t you have practice today?”

“Oh.” Seungcheol nods, his hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck. “Yeah. I forgot about that.”

“Besides, Hao always needs a second opinion on his outfits. He basically tried on his whole wardrobe before deciding on that," he laughs. "I don’t really know why he asks me, though—I can’t dress nice to save my life.”

Seungcheol tilts his head. “I think you look great.”

Not a day goes by that Junhui doesn’t thank his mother for making him take acting classes when he was a kid. It’s easy to play off the jackhammering pulse of his heart with a grin, self defense second nature at this point. “God, hyung, you’re lame.”

“I only said it because it’s true. You really do look great.” He catches Junhui’s scoff. “Come on, be more confident in yourself.”

“I am confident,” Junhui mumbles. And he’s not lying, it’s just—

Seungcheol leans forward until he’s only inches away from him, a hand cupped to his ear as he dips his head to catch Junhui’s downward gaze, soft raven hair falling over pale skin and shining brown eyes. “What was that?”

—it’s just Seungcheol.

Junhui nearly drops his plate, recoiling a bit as a flush threatens to creep up his neck. If Junhui had any self-respect left, he would punch Seungcheol for looking so smug right now, as if any of this is actually _fun._ Taking in a stuttering breath, he moves back in, determined to hold Seungcheol's gaze. “I _am_ confident,” he repeats, albeit quietly. It's a battle to keep his voice from shaking. “You’re just a menace.”

And then Seungcheol grins, the kind that shows off teeth and gums and dimples and makes Junhui feel something less like butterflies and more like .45 Colts in his stomach. The hand curled around Seungcheol’s ear moves to Junhui’s glasses and readjusts them higher up his nose, fingers grazing the shell of Junhui’s now burning ear. “You just make it too easy.”

Junhui has never been one to wax poetic. He can’t describe people to shit like the full moon, careful eyes the setting sun, or what the fuck ever. That just isn’t him. He processes through facts, _x’s_ and _y’s._ But sometimes his emotions get in the way and add a weight to those thoughts, create a depth in the flat plane of logic-meets-truth that Junhui could fall into and never be able to climb back out of. And sometimes, Junhui lets himself dive headfirst into that abyss, lets himself wonder if he were a girl, would Seungcheol close the distance between them. There is no metaphor, no soothing image to tuck away for when he’s drifting off to sleep—just a corroding bullet that has slipped past the fence of his rib cage and made a home in the tender flesh of his heart. There is only reality.

Seungcheol glances down to Junhui’s pizza. “Food’s good?”

He had completely forgotten about that. “Yeah,” Junhui says after a moment, grateful for the change of subject. “I don’t think there’s any pepperoni left, but I’m pretty sure I saw some sausage and peppers.”

“Oh.” Seungcheol frowns. “I was kind of craving pepperoni.” He reminds Junhui of a sad puppy _._ All that’s missing are two folded down ears and a tail tucked between his legs—

“You can have mine,” he hears himself blurting out because, well. _Well_.

Seungcheol blinks. “But it’s yours.”

Junhui shrugs. “I’m not hungry anymore. I did take a bite though, sorry. If that bothers you—”

“No, no it’s fine, but… Are you sure?” Seungcheol’s brows furrow together, concern flashing in his eyes. “If you’re still hungry, I can just—”

“Hyung,” Junhui laughs. He pushes the plate into Seungcheol’s hands, careful not to touch him. “I’m fine, really. Just eat it.”

Seungcheol stares at him with narrowed eyes, checking for any sign of hesitance. He seems to find whatever he was looking for, and then his expression shifts to one of childlike joy. Junhui wants to scream. It’s just _pizza,_ for heaven’s sake, he has no right to be like this. “Okay. Thanks, Junnie.”

And oh, that—that is new.

It’s embarrassing, really, how quickly that name strikes something in Junhui. _What’s in a name?_ There are rules and categories— _Junhwi_ for appearances, prim and proper _; Junhui_ for the memories he never wants to forget, comforting yet wistful; _Jun_ for the people he finds a home away from home in, safe. _Junnie_ doesn’t quite fit in any of those yet has a little bit of everything, completely foreign to him but perfect rolling off Seungcheol’s tongue. It feels like a gift. Junhui has never been more undeserving.

Junhui glances to his right and sees Joshua and Minghao watching them. Joshua has that amused look in his eye again, like he already knows the punchline to the joke you’re about to say, always one step ahead. Minghao just looks bored. Junhui isn’t sure which expression terrifies him more.

Realizing how close Seungcheol is, Junhui takes two steps back, hands clasped together behind him. Seungcheol takes note of this and something in his expression falters, shoulders drooping just a bit when he sees Joshua then Minghao. But when Seungcheol looks back at him, he’s smiling again. “So we’re still good for tutoring tomorrow at four, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Junhui says, a little dazed. “Same as always.”

“Great.” Seungcheol glances away for a second before nodding and turning around. “See you later, Jun.”

“Bye, hyung,” he calls after him, uselessly waving to Seungcheol’s retreating figure. It takes him a moment to realize he’s frowning. How foolish, to miss what doesn’t belong to him. 

Minghao walks up to him a second later, arms crossed and a very, very unimpressed look on his face.

“What?” Junhui asks, defensive.

Minghao continues to stare at him in painful silence. When Junhui repeats himself, Minghao just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re pathetic.”

Junhui can’t really argue with that, but he still puts Minghao in a headlock for it anyway.

_

Junhui’s handed a cup about three minutes after Minghao leaves to find a bathroom. He didn’t really see who gave it to him, but he’s pretty sure it was Mingyu’s voice that offered it to him. Suspicious, but it does look like regular fruit punch—smells like it, too. And Junhui’s been here for an hour now and has yet to find any water, or any drink for that matter.

Oh well. Minghao should get back soon enough. If Junhui doesn’t like it, he’ll just give it to him and drink from the tap.

**_**

Seungcheol finds Junhui right as he stumbles into the kitchen, a clammy hand gripping onto the doorframe while the other clings to Seungcheol’s bicep to keep upright. “Hyung!” Junhui squeezes his arm as he beams.

“Jun?” His eyes flick down to Junhui’s hand. “Is everything alright?”

“’m fine! Just looking for Hao. Have you seen him? He’s like—like this big?” He drops his hand to knee height, nearly falling over if it weren’t for Seungcheol’s hand that shoots out to grab his shoulder. “Little tyke. And a little shit. But he’s kinda cute when he isn’t talking. Isn’t he cute?”

Seungcheol is frowning. Junhui frowns back. “Are you okay?”

Junhui nods. “Peachy. Like peach fuzz.” He leans forward, forehead bumping into Seungcheol’s chin, and drops his voice to a whisper. “My tongue feels fuzzy, too."

Seungcheol stares at him with wide eyes. “You had the punch, didn’t you?”

“ _No,”_ he says while nodding. He burps, cherry breath fanning over Seungcheol’s face. “Maybe.”

“You’re drunk, Jun.”

“No, I’m not.” Junhui prods Seungcheol’s bicep again. “You’re really squishy.”

“Yeah, okay—” Seungcheol pries his hand away from the doorframe, only for Junhui to slump against the door and slide down, dragging Seungcheol along with him until they’re both sitting on the floor. Before Junhui can bump his head on the fridge, Seungcheol cups Junhui’s jaw and tilts it so he’s looking at him again, and then takes off Junhui’s glasses. He ignores Junhui’s whines and tucks them away in his pocket. “You’ll break them.”

“But they’re part of my character trope,” Junhui mumbles. He nuzzles into Seungcheol’s palm and giggles. “Your hand is soft.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, laughing slightly. “Man, how much did you drink?”

Junhui sticks his reddened tongue out at him for a response. It's not like he remembers. The hand on Seungcheol’s arm squeezes again. “Are you sure you don’t want to try wrestling?”

“I think I’ll stick with soccer. Cleats are expensive.”

“True,” he concedes, tone grave. “And you’d get way less confessions if you were on the wrestling team. Ugly headgear.”

“I’d consider less confessions a bonus, at least.”

Junhui moves away from Seungcheol’s hand, eyes widening. “You don’t want to date?”

Seungcheol shrugs, letting his arm drop back to his side. “I don’t know. It’s nice, having people say they like me, but… A lot of the time, I don’t even know who they are but I’d feel bad turning them down like that. It’s just awkward, I guess.”

“You really are a giant teddy bear, hyung,” Junhui sighs. “Too soft for your own good. I wish someone would confess to me. That’d be nice.”

“I’m sure someone wants to date you, Jun,” Seungcheol says.

Junhui rolls his eyes. “I haven’t even _kissed_ anybody before, hyung. Nobody’s gonna want to date me and I’ll be an old cat person livin’ off of Haohao because he plans on marrying rich and fuck him if he think I won’t demand compensation for all of his bullshit—” He starts tearing up, both hands now squeezing Seungcheol’s bicep. “Hyung, what if he says no to my cats?”

Seungcheol bites his lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I think you’re overreacting.”

“About the cats?” Junhui brightens. “Because I want six.”

“I meant about kissing.”

Junhui shushes him frantically, whispering, “Don’t tell Junhui I said that! He doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“You should tell Junhui there’s nothing wrong with never having kissed someone before,” Seungcheol whispers back.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Junhui slurs. “You’re probably a great kisser, you jerk. Who wouldn’t want to kiss you?” He points a trembling finger at Seungcheol’s mouth. “You know how red your lips are? Fuck you, dude, _fuck you._ ”

Seungcheol stares at him for a moment, unblinking. “You can’t just say those things.”

Junhui giggles. “You look like a sad puppy right now, hyung.” He barks faintly, still laughing a little to himself.

Sighing, Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. Junhui watches the movement in sudden silence, air catching in his throat. Seungcheol mumbles something under his breath, too quiet for Junhui to hear. Junhui tries to lean forward only for him to stand up, pulling Junhui along with him. “Hey, the floor was comfy…”

“But a bed would probably be comfier, don’t you think?”

A bed _does_ have blankets. Junhui nods slowly. “Guess so.”

“Right.” Seungcheol slings an arm around Junhui’s waist, holding him close as he guides them out of the kitchen. The music drowns out Junhui’s startled gasp. “So let’s find you a bed to sleep in.”

“Okay.”

It’s hard for Junhui to get his feet to cooperate. He stumbles with each step and if it weren’t for Seungcheol’s hand gripping his waist, he definitely would have fallen already. At some point, Junhui’s arm found its way around Seungcheol’s shoulders, holding on for dear life as Seungcheol practically carries him down a hallway. When they try to turn a corner, Junhui bumps into a closet door and nearly sends the two of them toppling. Junhui giggles into Seungcheol’s chest, mouth pressed into the fabric of his jacket. “Soonie has so many closets. Stupid rich people.”

“I’m gonna kill Jeonghan for not tossing out that punch earlier.” 

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Seungcheol tries to detach Junhui from his chest to little success. “Jun, I can’t walk.”

“Junnie.”

“What?”

“You called me Junnie earlier,” Junhui mumbles, voice muffled as he glances up at Seungcheol. “You’ve never called me that before. Why’d you stop?”

Seungcheol’s mouth opens but no words come out. Junhui really wants to poke his bottom lip, so he tells him this much. Seungcheol blinks and moves Junhui to his side. “Come on, you really need to sleep.”

Junhui yawns. “Not sleepy.” Seungcheol scoffs. “Hey, how long has it been since you’ve had your braces off?”

“Hm? Three years."

“Good for you.” Junhui nods. “You have a really nice smile.”

Seungcheol waves him off as best he can while holding him up. “I’ve seen better.”

Junhui stomps a foot on the ground, or at least tries to—it really hits the side of Seungcheol’s shoe. “I’m _serious._ ”

“O- _kay,_ ” Seungcheol laughs, the sound coming deep within his chest in a rumble that’s quite easy to feel when one is pressed right against him. Junhui’s stomach does a flip. He really hopes that doesn’t mean he needs to throw up. “Your smile’s prettier, though.”

Junhui makes a sound eerily similar to a hiss. “We were talking about _you.”_

“And I prefer talking about you. You’re just horrible at listening.”

“I’m a _great_ listener!”

Seungcheol pats his back placatingly. “Sure you are, Junnie.” That shuts him up.

They make it halfway up the stairs before Junhui speaks up again. “At least we both have our braces off now. Mine were a nightmare.”

“They weren’t that bad,” Seungcheol says.

Junhui shifts his weight to the left, his upper body now leaning over the banister. Seungcheol tugs him back in but he continues to squirm around. “I was spitting everywhere, hyung. _Everywhere.”_ He covers his face with his hands and groans, startling Seungcheol. “I probably spat on you, too.”

Seungcheol chuckles. “A bit, yeah.”

He moans and tries to lean towards the banister. “Bury me.”

“Hey, come on—” Seungcheol readjusts his hold on Junhui when he starts to fall down. Junhui yelps when he feels a hand run down his side, ticklish. “Shit, don’t fall.”

“I spat on you,” Junhui repeats. “I deserve to fall.”

“It’s not like you meant to,” Seungcheol assures him, still trying to lug him up the stairs. When he realizes Junhui simply refuses to budge, he sighs and has them sit down on the steps, careful to keep Junhui from falling over before moving his hands away. “You would just get nervous and talk a little faster, and _sometimes_ that would happen. It was cute.”

Junhui tries to shake the pounding noise in his head away—oh, that’s just his heartbeat. Alright. Cool. “That was _not_ cute. Nothing about that was cute. I looked so bad.”

Seungcheol brushes a lock of brown hair away from Junhui’s face with his finger, the tip following the arch of his brow, the dip of his cheekbone, the flat cut of his jaw. “Junnie, I hate to break it to you,” he says in something just barely above a whisper, gaze moving across his face before locking eyes with him, “but everything about you is cute.”

The room spins a little faster, sucking the air out of his lungs and replacing it with a dizzying heat that burns him from the inside out. His eyes trace the curve of Seungcheol's mouth, plush and inviting. A tingling buzz fills his ears. _“I want to kiss you,”_ he gasps, words sounding slurred even to him.

Seungcheol blinks. “What?”

“ _Gē?”_

Minghao’s standing at the top of the staircase, expression unreadable as he looks down at Junhui and Seungcheol, who at some point must have slipped his hand into Junhui’s as a safety measure, because his hand instantly retracts with the rest of his body to slide to the other side of the staircase. Minghao’s eyes narrow following Seungcheol’s actions, but he says nothing else.

Junhui feels something prick at the back of his eyes, face twisting at the sudden distance between them. “Hyung?”

Seungcheol keeps his gaze on his shoes, teeth digging into his bottom lip for a second. “Myungho-yah, I think Jun had too much to drink. You should take him home, he… he really needs to sleep.”

His chest begins to heave, breath painfully catching in his throat. “I don’t want to— to _sleep,”_ he spits out, vision filling with red spots, hot and blinding. “I _want_ —”

“ _Gē.”_ Minghao is in front of Junhui now, blocking his view of Seungcheol as he crouches over him. He presses a hand to Junhui’s cheek, comforting as his fingers wipe away unshed tears. His voice is firm and gentle, a soft whisper. It hurts all the same. “ _Come on, you can sleep at my place tonight.”_

Not waiting for Junhui’s permission, Minghao hooks an arm under Junhui’s shoulders and tugs him up, practically slinging Junhui over his back to keep him stable. Seungcheol is still looking away. Junhui grips Minghao’s shirt even tighter.

“Could you tell Soonyoung we’re leaving early, hyung?” Minghao asks Seungcheol, except it doesn’t really sound like a question. 

Seungcheol nods quickly. “Sure. Drive safe.”

Junhui wants Seungcheol to look up, to tell him something, anything. He never does. Acid bubbles in his stomach. Minghao starts walking them down the stairs.

Once they’re outside and the sounds of the party music is long behind them, Minghao lets out a heavy sigh. “Seriously, what am I going to do with you?”

A new wave of tears begin to form in Junhui’s eyes. His bottom lip wobbles. “Hao, ‘m sorry.”

Minghao’s eyes soften for just a second before he shakes his head and helps Junhui into the backseat of his car. “Just try not to puke in there, loser, okay? I’m already going to have to deal with your hangover _and_ embarrassment in the morning.”

Junhui sniffles. “Okay.” He pushes enough of himself past the door and throws up on the pavement.

—

Junhui wakes up half past noon with a splitting headache and just enough memories of the party to decide he will never, ever, _ever_ drink fruit punch again. Ever. And Minghao, that _asshole,_ only offers him some advil and a useless, “I told you that party was a bad idea.”

Junhui buries his face into his pillow to hide the flush that spreads across his cheeks. “What happened last night?”

“You tell me.”

He can feel Minghao’s eyes on him, making goosebumps spread up his arms. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Really.” Minghao doesn’t bother to say it like a question. “Nothing at all.”

“Yep,” he mumbles, trying very hard not to squirm under the bed sheets. “Nothing at all.”

Minghao hums, tone conversational. “Well then. Can’t do much about that.” The sheets are yanked away from Junhui’s body, exposing him to the cool air and flipping him onto his back. He ignores Junhui’s pained cry and stares at him from the foot of the bed, completely unsympathetic. “Guess you’ll have to ask Seungcheol.”

Twenty minutes later and Minghao’s dropping Junhui off at his house and ordering him to get some rest before driving away. Tough love at its finest.

Junhui has a feeling that if he had told Minghao what he _did_ remember, he would have been more willing to talk and have Junhui stay for longer. But he isn’t really sure he wants to know how much Minghao saw of his shit show, and he _definitely_ isn’t ready to be discussing his dating preferences to Minghao, or anyone for that matter. He’s only recently come to terms with being gay and he’s in no rush to tell anyone about it, even if Minghao’s his best friend.

The thing is, there’s still the problem of not remembering what was said. The gradually returning memories he does have are warped, playing in his mind like a silent movie, all static and one-dimensional. He knows certain things happened—like drooling over Seungcheol’s arms, apparently. Which is totally fine. Cool. Great. Life is just _awesome_ —but he has no idea why, and he basically loses all memories past the closet door he had bumped into. Not exactly an ideal situation. Maybe it's better if he just doesn’t think about it for now.

(That doesn’t work—he ends up dreaming about barking dogs and sweaty palms and empty, hollow rejections that looks a lot like Seungcheol’s frown. He can hear Minghao sigh. There’s a staircase that leads somewhere beyond, and Junhui’s terrified to climb it.) 

After knocking out for another few hours in the comfort of his own bed, Junhui wakes up at 3:30 to feeling somewhat more human. The medicine has finally kicked in so now there’s only a dull throb in the back of his head, and he doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore. This is the closest thing he’s felt to a win all day. And then he remembers today is Sunday.

_“So we’re still good for tutoring tomorrow at four, right?”_

Right. _That_. Junhui allows himself ten seconds of peace before sprinting into the bathroom to shower.

The hot water does little to calm his fraying nerves as panic digs its fangs under his flesh, latching on tight. The last thing he wants to do is talk to Seungcheol right now, not when he’s still unsure of, well, everything, but it’s too late to just cancel on him. Besides, it’s not Seungcheol’s fault Junhui got drunk—if anything, he probably owes Seungcheol for the mess he put him through last night. He made a promise, and he’ll see it through to the end, even if it bites him in the ass and leaves him traumatized for the rest of his life. Maybe Minghao will show him mercy and make him some hot chocolate and let him cry on his shoulder if he begs enough.

It isn’t until it’s 3:49 and he’s stubbed his toe on his desk for the fourth time that he realizes he has no idea where his glasses are. In true Junhui fashion, he practically tears apart his bedroom in search of his _very_ _expensive and very uninsured_ glasses while whispering curses to himself. There’s no way Minghao would have kept them—he’s not _that_ spiteful—so they have to be here somewhere. From his bedroom, he moves on to the rest of his house, nearly at the point of hysteria when he sees it’s already way past four o’clock.

Someone starts knocking on the front door. Junhui has no intention of opening it but then he hears a painfully familiar voice call out. “Jun? Are you in there?”

Junhui freezes, the couch cushion slipping out of his grasp and landing on the floor with a muted thud. He counts time by the stuttering puffs of breath that leave his mouth, terrified to announce himself. But then Seungcheol knocks again and this time he sounds worried. “Hello?”

Shuffling around in a circle for a few seconds, Junhui forces himself to take a deep breath and walk to the door, legs stiff and weighted. When he opens it he sees Seungcheol with a fist raised, as if he was getting ready to knock again. Seungcheol steps back quickly and smiles. “Oh, there you are.”

“Hey.” Junhui’s voice shakes. Heat pricks at the back of his neck. He rubs his strained eyes to distract himself. “Sorry for being late, I just— I can’t find my glasses anywhere and I _know_ I had them—”

Seungcheol clears his throat. “Ah, yeah. About that.” From his back pocket, he pulls out a handkerchief and unfolds it to reveal Junhui’s glasses.

Junhui can feel all the blood drain from his face. That makes one confirmed memory. “Oh.”

Seungcheol laughs, but even Junhui can tell it sounds forced. “Yeah, I sort of forgot to give them back to you last night after… all that. Sorry.” Junhui just keeps staring at the thin gold frames, mouth parted but no sound coming out. “I was going to give them to you during our lesson but I wasn’t sure if you remembered, or even felt well enough to come over, and you’re never late so I wanted to check on you.”

When another minute passes with Junhui still frozen, Seungcheol carefully presses the glasses into the palm of his hand. Junhui startles, breath hiccuping in his throat as he nearly drops his glasses. “Right,” he chokes out. “Sorry about that. Thanks for returning them.”

“No problem. How are you feeling?”

A small voice in his head that sounds an awful lot like Minghao’s snickers. “F-Fine. Minghao gave me some medicine for my headache and I took a nap so I’m all better, I was just freaking out trying to find my glasses. But now I can help you with your homework.”

Seungcheol stares at him like he’s got a second head growing on his shoulder. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jun says, thumb pointing behind himself. “Let me just get my stuff and—”

“No, stop that. You’re not doing anything today.”

Junhui frowns. “But I’m okay now, really.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes, a scowl tugging at his lips. It makes Junhui shrink back a little. “You don’t get it. I don’t _want_ you to help me. I was really worried last night, you don’t— I’ve never seen you act like that before. And you look exhausted, you really think I want you to strain yourself even more just to do some chemistry worksheets?”

It’s more than a little unnerving, seeing Seungcheol be so serious for once. Junhui’s used to his smiles and laughs, not this. It feels way too much like a reprimanding, the silent _I’m disappointed in you_ biting at Junhui’s insides, filling him with a freezing dread.

Seeing Junhui isn’t going to respond, Seungcheol sighs. His tone softens just a bit. “I appreciate you wanting to help me, but it’s not important right now. We can do that another time. Just take it easy for today and try to get back your strength. You were really out of it last night.”

Junhui fights down his protest, well aware he won’t be able to change Seungcheol’s mind anytime soon. “Okay. I’m really sorry, hyung.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault the drinks were spiked. You didn’t know. Nobody did. I’m just glad you’re okay.” When Seungcheol smiles this time, it feels sincere, if not a little shy. It makes something in Junhui’s chest thump.

The two stand there for a while in heavy silence before Seungcheol starts to fidget, scratching at his nape. “Um, well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt, body twitching away for a second as he takes a careful step backwards. “I guess— If that’s all, I should get going.”

“Wait.” The hand holding onto the door handle latches onto Seungcheol’s sleeve. They both jump at the sudden contact. Junhui pulls away just as quickly, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. “About last night… How bad was I?”

Seungcheol only looks away for a second, but it’s enough for Junhui’s heart to sink somewhere deep into his stomach. “Ah, you didn’t really do anything, honestly. You tripped a lot, but nothing too worrying. You just… talked, I guess.”

Junhui feels faint. “I talked?”

The tips of Seungcheol’s ears turn pink. “A little, yeah.”

His voice comes out small. “What did I say?”

Seungcheol's hands twitch at his sides. Hesitantly, he sneaks a glance behind him and drops his voice to a murmur. “Can I come in?” Right, of course he doesn’t want anyone to overhear them. He has every right to be embarrassed. Nothing like hitting on a straight guy.

Junhui really wishes he had asked Minghao to run him over with his car.

He nods for a response, too scared to open his mouth again and steps aside to press himself against the door, careful to not touch Seungcheol as he passes by. Once Seungcheol walks inside and makes his way down the hall, Junhui closes the door and lets his body sag against it for a moment, breathing out a small groan before putting on his glasses and following after Seungcheol.

Seungcheol is standing at the entrance of his living room like he isn’t sure what to do with himself, hands in his pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels. Junhui’s about to ask him what’s wrong before he realizes his living room was the last place he cycloned through while searching for his glasses. He can practically feel his mother screaming at him for allowing a guest in like this.

“Sorry about the mess,” he says with a forced laugh, rushing forward to fix the couch cushions. “It’s normally not like this, I swear.” Seungcheol nods but says nothing. It’s silent for a few minutes as Junhui cleans everything up and Seungcheol watches him and none of this is helping his stress levels right now. Maybe he should've just talked to Minghao instead because honestly, _fuck this._

Eventually, Junhui has to accept there’s nothing left to organize—in fact, the room probably looks better than before he ruined it. His mother better thank him when she comes home—and he can’t avoid Seungcheol forever. Junhui gestures him to the couch then sits down, shoulders tensing as Seungcheol draws closer. Seungcheol stares at him for a second before sitting down with his body pressed to the opposite side of the couch. He can’t tell if Seungcheol did that for Junhui’s sake or his own. Both options make him anxious.

Seungcheol scratches his ear. “Right. So, last night. I found you in the kitchen. You said you were looking for Myungho, but you could barely walk so I made you sit down for a few minutes. And… you—” His hands wave around uselessly. “You kept squeezing my arm?”

Junhui tries very hard not to flush. “Sorry.”

Seungcheol shrugs him off. He pauses like he wants to say something. Junhui motions for him to continue. “Was that your first time drinking?” Junhui must be making a face because Seungcheol starts laughing. “I just wanted to be sure. It’s fine, you know. I wasn’t annoyed with you or anything. Just worried. You got back safe?”

He nods. “Yeah. Minghao took care of me.”

Seungcheol smiles a little, eyes moving away. “I’m glad. It’s good you have someone like him in your life. He protects you.”

Junhui frowns. “Well yeah, but it wasn’t like I was in danger.”

“You were drunk, Jun. Anything could’ve happened.”

“But I had you there.” Seungcheol lifts his head up, taken aback. Junhui feels his cheeks grow warm. _So much for trying._ “I’m safe with you, too.”

Seungcheol blinks repeatedly, mouth parted but no words come out. He looks away again, nodding slowly. “Uh, is there anything you remember?”

Junhui slumps forward a little. He just can’t figure this guy out for the life of him. “I think I have an idea of what happened, for the most part. You were trying to get me to sleep somewhere—” Seungcheol nods. “—and I wasn’t letting you move me. I know what we did, I just…” He blows out a puff of air, rustling his bangs. “Did we talk about anything… _weird_?”

“Weird?”

“Yeah, like—” Junhui runs a ragged hand through his hair, throat closing around nothing. “Did I bring up kissing?”

Seungcheol takes in a sharp breath. It feels like a punch to the gut. “You remember that.”

“Not really,” Junhui lies, retreating further into his side of the couch. “I can’t tell if I dreamt up some parts or not.” _Like oh, I don’t know, saying I want to kiss you. Remember that?_

“Um.” Seungcheol twists the ring on his left pinky. “Okay. You were upset you’ve never dated or kissed anyone before, and I tried to cheer you up but you said I don’t—” He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t get to talk about that stuff because I kiss well. And then you panicked because you told me all of that. And… yeah. That— Yeah.”

“Oh.” His voice trembles. So that makes two confirmed. “And nothing else happened?”

Seungcheol shakes his head quickly. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Junhui tries again, desperate. “Not when we were walking or by the stairs—”

“Nothing happened.” Seungcheol sounds different, in a way Junhui’s never heard before. It almost feels evasive. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Junhui mumbles, tongue heavy in his mouth. It’s better this way—if Seungcheol says nothing happened, then nothing happened. He didn’t confess to Seungcheol. That’s a good thing. A great thing, even. Everything’s just _great_. “Okay. Just making sure. I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol groans but finally looks at him again. “Seriously, you don't need to keep apologizing. It's fine. I’m just glad you’re feeling better now.”

Junhui doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. He smiles instead, heart twisting. “Mhm.”

“And, about the kissing thing—” Junhui perks up. “—I promise not to tell anyone about it, if that’s what you were worried about.”

“Oh. Thanks,” he says, deflating a little. He bites on his lip to keep from pouting. _Stupid._

“I know you didn’t believe me last night, but I meant what I said. There’s really nothing wrong with never having kissed anyone before.”

“Hyung,” Junhui groans, burying his face into his hands. “Please don't. I'm so not in the mood for one of your dad talks right now.”

“I’m serious!” Seungcheol laughs, and _that doesn’t really sound serious to Junhui._ “You shouldn’t be embarrassed about something like that.”

“I’m not,” he grumbles. “It’s just lame.”

“That doesn't sound like you’re not embarrassed.”

Junhui lifts his head to glare at him. “It’s embarrassing telling _you_ about it, okay?” He huffs. “You ever realize how much of a cliche you are? The school’s superstar, always getting asked out by, like, _every single_ girl who lays eyes on you. You could have anyone you want. Like—shit. Of _course_ it’s easy for you to say all that. But I’ll never get the person I like to look at me no matter what I do because I’m _me.”_ He hadn't meant to get angry—this is probably the worst time to be venting stupid feelings—but it's hard to think straight when everything just keeps snowballing out of his control.

Seungcheol blinks. “I didn’t mean… I don’t— I'm not—” He pauses. “You like someone?” It’s faint, as if he’s speaking without any oxygen, strangled. Junhui can’t really blame him. The room feels void of air. 

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Junhui has to look away, has to hide his face from Seungcheol’s gaze. “I’ve never thought about it much. Never really had much of a chance, you know?”

“You think…“ A sigh. “Jun, there’s no way someone like you would get turned down.”

Junhui laughs, salt on ice. “Yeah, well, there’s an exception to everything.”

The clock on the wall ticks away, the rhythmic _tick_ a thundering echo in the room and silence between them. When a full minute passes and Seungcheol is still silent, Junhui forces himself to speak. “Look, hyung, it’s fine. It really doesn’t matter to me, I just got carried away last night because of the alcohol and it's probably still messing with my brain. We can just—”

“No.”

Junhui snaps his head up. “No?”

Seungcheol nods, expression resolute. “No. I’m gonna help you get a date.”

His mouth falls open. “Come again _?”_

“Clearly this _does_ matter to you, and apparently I’m experienced in… this—” His brows furrow a bit, like saying _dating_ would be too much. “So I can help you.”

Junhui stares at him for a long time before bursting into giggles. Seungcheol pouts. “Seriously, hyung?” He tries to muffle his laughter with his palm to no avail. “Jeonghan was right—you really _are_ a grandpa.”

Seungcheol shoves Junhui’s shoulder, scowling when it only makes him laugh harder. “I am _not_ a grandpa. And I’m serious!”

“Come on,” Junhui gasps out once he finally calms down his giggles, sagging against the couch with a light sigh. “Be real. I’m not exactly the smoothest guy around. Or the most popular. Nobody’s gonna take a second look at me. That’s just the law of society.” He holds a hand up when Seungcheol tries to protest. “Don’t even deny it. You know how our school works. Everything's just one big popularity contest there.”

“I know,” Seungcheol mumbles. “That doesn’t make it right, though.”

Junhui shrugs. “It is what it is. I’m fine with it, honestly. I have friends who respect me, and it’s not like anyone’s going to shove me into a locker or whatever. I wouldn’t even feel comfortable with everyone paying attention to me.”

“You just want the person you like to pay attention to you.” Junhui doesn’t really know how to respond to that. It’s not like he’s _wrong,_ but that’s never going to happen either. “You’re not denying it.”

“Okay, let’s say I agree to this whole _Cupid_ thing for a minute. What’re you gonna do? Teach me how to kiss?” Junhui snorts. “Maybe I can learn how to hold a conversation and flirt, but come on—It won’t work.”

“I can teach you.”

For a solid second, Junhui swears he flatlines. _What the fuck._

Seungcheol blanches at his expression. “We don’t have to,” he stutters, panic lacing his voice. “It was just an idea. I don’t— I don’t even know what I’m saying, I’m so sorry. Just—”

“You’re serious,” Junhui whispers, hand twitching to pinch himself. “You’re actually serious. You’re not joking.”

“What—no.” Seungcheol's clearly confused. “Why would I be joking?”

“Why would you be _offering_?” He might actually pass out.

Seungcheol puffs out his cheeks for a second and looks him in the eye. “I told you—I want to help you. You already do so much for me, working around _my_ schedule just to tutor me and you stopped accepting money for it months ago. If I can help you with something that matters to you, I want to do it. And if that means doing that, then... okay. If that’s what you want.”

“But you…” Junhui swallows, eyes darting everywhere. “We’d be _kissing._ ” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he understands he probably sounds like a child, but he pushes that thought to the side because there are more important things for his weak little brain to be worrying about right now.

“Just imagine you’re kissing the person you like,” Seungcheol reasons, as if that isn’t the _entire damn problem_. “Really, Jun, if you’re not comfortable with kissing me, I get it. We can just drop it and move on. I’m not— I’m not gonna _force_ you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Junhui shakes his head. “I know you won’t. It’s just—” He doesn’t know how to say it. “I’m a guy.” Shame seeps into his voice, weak and vulnerable and absolutely pathetic, he's so pathetic.

Seungcheol’s gaze softens, tension bleeding out of him as he exhales. “I know that. Does that bother you?”

It takes him a minute. “No,” Junhui hears himself say. His hands are starting to shake. "No, it doesn't."

Seungcheol studies Junhui's face for a long time, expression unreadable. It's unbearable, and Junhui has half a mind to just call it quits to whatever he's just agreed to, but then Seungcheol is shuffling closer until he’s kneeling over Junhui, hands raising to gently cup his jaw as he nudges Junhui back against the couch. His eyes drop to Junhui’s mouth. “Okay?” he asks quietly, breath fanning out over Junhui. Warm cinnamon clouds his senses.

Junhui shivers, heart in his throat. “Okay.” And then Seungcheol leans in.

It’s a peck, more than anything, over before Junhui can even close his eyes and now they’re just staring at each other, close enough for him to notice that Seungcheol's eyelashes are long enough to skim his eyelids when he blinks. For a second, Junhui thinks that’s it, all done, but then Seungcheol swipes a thumb over his cheek, grazing the corner of his bottom lip, and dives back in.

Seungcheol’s lips are soft, carefully pressed against his as he slides a hand down to Junhui’s scalp and threads his fingers into the hair there, holding him in place. Junhui clutches at Seungcheol’s sweatshirt, fisting the thin material in his sweaty palms to keep them from trembling. Something swoops in Junhui’s stomach when Seungcheol starts rubbing his neck, _petting him,_ and it makes him relax, sinking into the couch cushion and tugging at Seungcheol’s sweatshirt. Pushing down the bubble of fear in his chest, Junhui tries to move his lips against Seungcheol’s, tentative and more than a little clumsy. Seungcheol doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, instead pressing in harder and hooking his thigh over Junhui’s to move closer. The kiss becomes demanding, Seungcheol’s confidence growing with each passing second and making Junhui’s knees go weak, brain shutting down and lungs collapsing in on themselves.

Eventually, Seungcheol pulls away with a faint gasp. Junhui tries to lean forward, chasing after his lips without thinking, but the hands on his body hold him back. When Junhui opens his eyes only to get a direct view of Seungcheol’s parted mouth, panting slightly for air, a fierce heat crawls up his skin, burning wherever Seungcheol is touching him. “Um.”

Seungcheol smiles, but it looks different somehow. Tense. “Was that… alright? For you?”

Junhui can’t stop staring at his lips. “Y-Yeah. That... You didn’t have to—” He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Thank you.”

Realizing he’s practically sitting on Junhui’s lap, Seungcheol moves back to the opposite end of the couch, arms at his side. “No problem.”

A stiff silence settles between them, the two staring at the powered off television across the room. If Junhui wasn’t still thinking about Seungcheol’s mouth, he’d be worried about how awkward this is. Seungcheol clears his throat. “Well, I— I should get going then. Still have homework to do.”

Junhui doesn’t register what he said until Seungcheol stands up. “Oh. Right.” He steps around him and guides him to the front door, hand reaching for the doorknob when Seungcheol speaks again.

“Are you free tomorrow?” Junhui turns around, head tilted. Seungcheol plays with the ring on his pinky, his smile cheerful as ever. “We should come up with a plan for how this is going to work. I have practice tomorrow but I finish at four. We could meet up somewhere afterwards, if that’s cool with you.”

A heavy weight settles on his shoulders when he sees just how excited Seungcheol is about this. His brain is telling him this is a horrible idea and to just end it now while he still can, make Seungcheol promise to never speak about this and go back to being... whatever they were. School friends. It’s not like Seungcheol will ever like him that way—this is all just a favor to him, a way to repay a debt. Transactional.

But the way Seungcheol is looking at him, all bright-eyed and happy and _fond,_ is something Junhui has never experienced before. And if there’s one thing Junhui has learned today, it’s that he’s a sucker for all things Seungcheol-related.

“Yeah, sure.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so my goal of keeping this below 15k pretty much got sniped and so i had to shuffle around the way i wanted to update. fair warning, this update has more dialogue than actual kissing for a... practice kissing au (sorry about that), but i made a poll on my twitter asking if people were okay with waiting for the actual kissing to happen with the third update so they can at least get something sooner, and that choice won out. moral of the story? follow me on twitter because i'm a victim of dragging things out for emotional spite and i talk about it a lot on there.
> 
> also, i'm not sure if i should warn this but just in case, there is a coming out scene in here.

Minghao slams his hand onto the cafeteria table, eyes narrowed and accusing as he leans forward. It’d be more intimidating if his other hand wasn’t balancing his lunch tray. “You didn’t wait for me today.”

Junhui takes his time to chew the carrot in his mouth, swallowing slowly just to see if Minghao will get huffier. And it works—Minghao makes some sort of high-pitched grunt in the back of his throat. Junhui stifles his laughter by pressing his napkin to his lips. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

“You didn’t wait for me,” he repeats through gritted teeth. “You always wait for me to get out of Chemistry so we can walk to the cafeteria together. But you didn’t today.”

Junhui finally looks up at his looming figure and coos. “Aw, Haohao! You really do love me! I knew there was a heart somewhere in there. Can’t stand to go five minutes without seeing me, hm?”

Minghao makes The Noise again. “If you’re with me in line, I get to pick out your fruit side, so _I_ get two fruit sides. But now I only get one. You broke our system.” He throws his tray onto the table, startling a few nearby students. “We had a _system._ ”

Junhui clicks his tongue. “You could at least pretend to care about me, you know.”

“Your ego doesn’t deserve the gratification.” Minghao takes the seat across from him. Junhui pouts but still slides his bowl of kiwi slices onto Minghao’s lunch tray. “But I guess you’re useful sometimes.”

“Brat,” Junhui mutters.

He pretends not to hear him. “So, why didn’t you wait for me?” he asks before popping a kiwi into his mouth.

Junhui picks at his food, shoulders hunching up to shrug. “I forgot.”

“Two years of walking together to lunch,” Minghao drawls, brow arched, “and you just suddenly happen to forget.”

“Didn’t take my vitamins last night,” he says simply. “Must be why.”

“Right.” Minghao studies him carefully. “ _And definitely not because you wanted to avoid seeing Seungcheol walk out of our class.”_ Junhui’s spoon hits the side of his soup bowl, the sharp clang of metal on metal making him wince. _“_ _I knew it_ _.”_

Junhui bites the inside of his cheek. _“_ That’s not it. And keep your voice down, will you?”

Minghao rolls his eyes. _“Mandarin isn’t exactly an elective here, Jun.”_

 _“We aren’t the only Chinese students, you ass,”_ he whispers back in a hurry.

 _“You wouldn’t care about someone overhearing if it weren’t true,”_ the younger notes. When Junhui doesn’t give him a response, he sighs. His eyes shift to somewhere behind Junhui. _“Guess it doesn’t matter. Seungcheol’s standing right behind you anyway.”_

An aborted squawk forces its way out of Junhui’s throat as his chopsticks slip from his fingers, rolling off the table before clattering onto the floor. Junhui spins around in his chair, his knee slamming into the table’s leg in the process and making him curse, only to see Seungcheol just entering the cafeteria from the other side of the room with Jeonghan and Joshua at his side, the three talking animatedly.

Joshua says something that makes Seungcheol lean into Jeonghan’s body from behind and laugh, arms casually wrapped around the younger’s shoulders. Seungcheol chooses that moment to look up and notice Junhui staring at him. His body twitches for a second, frozen in place as his expression falters, limbs slipping away from Jeonghan. A small smile forms on his lips, awkward and hesitant, and he waves to Junhui. Dazed, Junhui lifts his hand and motions something passable for a wave. They stare at each other until Joshua calls out Seungcheol’s name from a free table and he glances away. When Seungcheol looks back, he waves one more time then heads over to his friends.

Junhui lets his hand drop to his lap slowly, still watching Seungcheol as he sits down. He looks fine, happy as ever. While talking to them, at least.

“ _Why is it you two can never have a conversation without one of you looking like you’re about to shit your pants?”_

Junhui whirls back around to properly glare at him. _“What was_ that _about?”_

Minghao waves his hand around as he swallows another spoonful of his soup, calm as can be. “ _You’re only making this harder for yourself, you know. I thought I told you to talk to him about what happened at the party.”_

“And I did,” Junhui insists, switching back to Korean.

Minghao blinks, the hand reaching for his kimchi stilling. “Really? When?”

“In the afternoon. He came over to give me my glasses and check up on me.”

“Oh… And?”

Junhui sighs. “And what?” 

“What happened?” Minghao says impatiently.

“We just… talked.” He tries not to wilt under Minghao’s glare. “Look, he told me what he remembered and then he went home to let me rest. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Minghao sets down his chopsticks slowly. Junhui has the lingering suspicion Minghao wants to throw the utensils at him. “And what did he remember?”

Junhui rubs a hand over his face. “That I kept tripping on my feet and talking about stupid shit. He was trying to get me to one of the bedrooms to lie down, I wasn’t cooperating, and then you know the rest. Happy now? I don’t get why you couldn’t just tell me that yourself.” When Minghao doesn’t answer back, Junhui glances up to see Minghao’s staring at him with an unreadable expression. “Okay, _what?_ ”

“Let me make sure I understand this.” He points a finger at him. “You two talked about the party, and now know everything that happened?”

“Yes?” Junhui’s starting to develop a headache—this whole conversation feels like a puzzle with only half the pieces available to him and the timer’s connected to a flash bomb. “Everything’s fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“God, why are you being so weird about this?” Junhui groans, palms clammy against the fabric of his pants. “I've got everything handled with him. Did I say something to you back at the party or what?”

Minghao looks at him for a long time, eyes a little too sharp for Junhui’s liking. For a second, he wonders if Minghao somehow knows about the kiss. But that—there’s no way. He can’t know. He can’t. Unless Seungcheol—

“No,” Minghao says, humming as he finally drops his gaze back to his food. “You didn’t say anything to me. I was just worried about how you’d reacted that night. But if you’re alright, then I’m okay. Sorry for pushing you like that. I didn't mean to come off pushy. It's not really my business, anyway.” 

Junhui rubs his hands across his thighs to wipe away the sweat. “It’s fine.” Minghao’s still silent, gaze cast downward like a scolded child. He sighs dramatically. “You did leave me chopstick-less, though. _That_ was kind of shitty of you, gotta say.”

Minghao snorts, the sound ugly and a little rough but more than welcoming. He holds out his chopsticks to Junhui with an eye roll. “Whatever.” Junhui lets out a gleeful cry, grabbing the chopsticks and wasting no time in digging into his food. When Minghao speaks again, there is fondness seeping into his voice. “You know I just want you to be happy, right?”

Junhui lifts his head, unblinking and a little startled. Minghao’s staring at him with a serious expression, one he usually reserves for moments where they’re alone and half-asleep. Something fills his stomach, warm and syrupy and heavy. “I know,” he says after a beat, quiet to match Minghao’s volume. And he does know, is absolutely grateful and well-aware of the fact he will never deserve someone as gentle as Minghao. It’s why he can’t lose him. “And I am.”

Then Minghao smiles, lips quirking unevenly and making his cheeks squish, and it occurs to Junhui that maybe he’s already way in over his head, that the flash bomb went off the second he went to that party, and he’s been walking blindly across a minefield ever since. “I’m glad.”

Junhui clears his throat and shovels the last of his rice into his mouth. It feels like he’s swallowing a rock.

—

All things considered, Junhui isn’t too surprised Seungcheol offered to help him. He’s pretty sure that even if Junhui never got drunk and spilled everything, Seungcheol would have agreed to it if Junhui asked him to. Because—well. Junhui has no idea why Seungcheol would ever be cool with something like this. He’s never met anyone so genuinely _nice,_ so willing to lend a hand without any pretext or agenda. And that heart of gold of his, that lovely, soft soul of his tucked inside a body that nurtures instead of destroys—it fucks with Junhui’s head like nothing else.

It’s not like Junhui expected Seungcheol to be some grade A asshole. Even from their first meeting after Junhui's family moved in, he knew Seungcheol didn’t have it in him to be the posh jerk who would make fun of his braces and weak grasp of Korean. After all, it was Seungcheol’s idea to help Junhui carry his things to his new room, completely unprompted by both Seungcheol’s mother and Junhui’s.

At first, Junhui just thought he had offered to make himself look good in front of their moms, presenting himself as some kind of perfect child that the neighborhood loves to compare their kids against. It didn’t really help that Seungcheol already won over his mother with his polite words and dimpled cheeks—he couldn’t blame her for that one—but it wasn’t like Junhui could say no. He just hoped Seungcheol wouldn’t do a complete 180 when they were alone.

And then, well. Seungcheol made Junhui eat every single word.

Despite being the one to offer his help, Seungcheol could barely look Junhui in the eye without a nervous little laugh escaping him. Junhui thought it was because of all the spit—he was trying really, _really_ hard to control it but braces, Korean conjugations, and pretty boys are a horrible combination for a pubescent mind—but Seungcheol waved off his apology and smiled to show off his own braces. It was a sight—Seungcheol standing there awkwardly while Junhui gawked at how much better he looked with them compared to him. But it helped break whatever strange tension Seungcheol was going through, and with Seungcheol’s gentle demeanor and frankly _ridiculous_ patience for Junhui to finish stuttering out his words, Junhui quickly realized he had no idea how to define Seungcheol.

Even now, a few years later with them attending the same schools and not having a lot of reasons to consistently talk to each other but still doing it anyway, Junhui doesn’t know what equation could solve Seungcheol. And—honestly? He gave up on trying to figure it out a while ago. There’s no way he’ll ever understand why Seungcheol is so dead set on being the kindest person alive. Junhui accepts that’s just who he is, and treasures it.

Sometimes, Junhui wishes Seungcheol was an asshole. It would’ve been so much easier if Junhui had it in himself to hate him.

—

Since it’s just practice and not an official game, the bleachers are empty. Junhui picks a spot at the end of the second row, a little unsure of himself when he sees that a few of Seungcheol’s teammates and the cheerleaders have begun to take notice of his presence. He’s never been to a game before, but he’s pretty sure it’s okay to sit on the bleachers. Besides, school’s over. They can’t really kick him out.

Unless they can. There could be some Law of the Field book that he missed out on, for all he knows. Maybe he should just wait in the library.

From what Junhui can see, the team’s still going through warm ups with Seungcheol leading them. There’s a set of markers stretching across a quarter of the field that Junhui guesses they have to run to. It looks like a deadlier version of the pacer test. He shivers in his seat.

One of the players who’s been staring at him says something to Seungcheol. The two share a few words before the guy points at Junhui. Seungcheol turns around, brows furrowed as he squints under the sun’s light. When he registers Junhui, his eyes widen to the size of the soccer ball nearby. Junhui bites the inside of his cheek and waves.

Seungcheol blinks, mouth opening a little. He tilts his head to the side to tell his teammates something and then walks away before they can respond. It takes Junhui a second to realize Seungcheol’s walking over to _him_ —he scrambles out of his seat and makes his way to the fence that separates the bleachers and field.

Junhui offers him a smile, clammy hands buried in his pockets. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Seungcheol’s face has a thin sheen of sweat to it, hair sticking to his forehead and the beginning of a flush settling on his cheeks. It takes Junhui a second to look him in the eye. “What are— Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah.” Junhui shifts his feet. “We agreed to meet after your practice, remember?”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen again. “Yeah, but—we finish in two hours.”

“A little less than that now,” he says.

“So you’re just… gonna watch?”

Junhui shrugs. “I don’t have any homework to do.”

Before Seungcheol can protest (he’s pouting—Junhui _knows_ he’s against this), the person who had noticed Junhui earlier jogs over to them, brown hair flopping around with each step. “Hey Seungcheol, are we on break? ‘Cause Yuta really wants to take a piss and he’s threatening to use one of the cones again.”

Junhui wants to ask about that _again._

Seungcheol scowls, a low sigh leaving his mouth as he glares at his teammate. “I thought I told everyone to keep Yuta from water until we were finished with warm ups.”

“You know Taeyong can’t say no to him. They’re like, attached by the balls or something.” He glances behind Seungcheol’s shoulder to look at Junhui. “Got yourself a new admirer?”

Junhui flits his gaze to Seungcheol, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here right now. He clears his throat. “I’m Junhwi. We’re friends.”

“Junhwi?” Realization passes through him. “Oh, wait. Is he—” He wags a finger between Junhui and Seungcheol. “This is Jun?”

“Johnny,” Seungcheol warns. “Shut up.”

Johnny—the name sounds familiar. Maybe he’s friends with Ten?—laughs, a low breathy sound that only makes Seungcheol frown harder. Johnny slings an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder and shakes him. “You finally convinced your guy to come, Coupsie?”

Junhui blinks. “Sorry?”

“Everyone on the team knows about you. You’re teaching little Coupsie here chem, right?” The boy pinches Seungcheol’s sweaty cheek and tugs. “Coupsie worked super hard to bring his grade up, but nothing was working, and then you came around. It’s thanks to you that we got our cute captain to stay this season! We owe you big time. He always reminds us to thank you but never told us who you were. Guess he wanted to keep you all to himse—”

Seungcheol shoves him away with an elbow to the gut. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

Johnny pouts, bottom lip jutting out as he bats his eyes. It’s probably not that effective when he’s towering over Seungcheol. Just how tall is this dude? “But I say it with love.”

“You want another set of line drills?”

“One day, you won’t be able to reject my affections,” Johnny sighs. He smiles at Junhui. It’s a nice smile, curving his eyes and softening the lines of his cheekbones (Junhui still thinks Seungcheol’s is prettier). “I don’t know how you deal with his tight ass all the time.”

“I am not a tight ass,” Seungcheol scoffs.

“You’re making us dehydrate Yuta until two-thirty.”

“He’s got the bladder the size of a cashew.”

The boy throws a look at Junhui and mouths _tight ass._ Junhui laughs a little.

Seungcheol makes a noise of protest. “Quit bothering Jun.”

“I’m not bothering him!” Johnny darts around Seungcheol to lean against the fence, a hand on Junhui’s shoulder. “Right, Jun?”

Junhui takes note of the deep curl of Seungcheol’s lip as he frowns at them. Johnny’s staring at him expectantly. He readjusts his glasses with a heavy sigh before grabbing Johnny’s own shoulder. “We’re bonding over our shared traumas, hyung. Let me have this.”

Seungcheol gapes. “You’re both ridiculous.”

Junhui sticks his tongue out at him. Johnny snorts.

“Go back to the others, Johnny,” Seungcheol sighs. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“What about Yuta?”

He mulls it over. “He gets two minutes. If he’s not back by then, he’s the last to shower.”

“Alright.” Johnny claps Junhui’s shoulder, sending him forward a little with a faint _oof._ “Nice meeting you, Jun. Gonna stay to watch us practice then?”

“No.” “Sure.”

Junhui stares at Seungcheol. “I can’t?”

“You can,” Seungcheol stutters, eyes moving away quickly. “It’s just—We’re practicing, it won’t be that exciting and it’s h-hot out.”

Johnny tsks, hand rising to wave at Seungcheol. He holds Junhui closer to him. “Don’t listen to him, our practices are always fun to watch. Coupsie’s probably just shy to play in front of a friend. He loves to look his best, don’t you, Captain?”

“Get back to the others, Seo,” Seungcheol growled. “Now.”

“See?” He whispers into Junhui’s ear. Chuckling, he pulls away from the fence and starts walking away. “Let’s talk afterwards, Jun!”

It’s silent for a moment as Junhui waves him goodbye and Seungcheol glares at him. Once Johnny’s out of earshot, Seungcheol slumps forward with a groan, head thumping against the fence. “I hate everything.”

Junhui stifles his laughter. “I like your nickname.”

“Don’t,” Seungcheol mumbles. “It’s bad enough they call me that. You don’t need more power over me.” Sighing, he lifts his head and looks at Junhui carefully. There isn’t much distance between them. “Are you sure you want to stay out here? I don’t mind picking you up from somewhere else.”

“No, it’s okay. I really have nothing else to do. Besides, I’ve never seen you play before. I want to watch.” Junhui pokes his cheek with a grin. “Let’s see how Coupsie gets all the girls to fall for him.”

Seungcheol freezes, eyes widening for a split second before he staggers back, mouth opening and closing repeatedly as his ears turn pink. There’s something horribly satisfying about it. “Don’t— You can’t just— I do _not_ —”

“Hey, Coupsie!” Someone calls out—probably Yuta, judging by the guy following up with, “You made me speed piss and you’re still talking to your little fan?”

Junhui points to the field. “I think your team wants to start.”

Seungcheol glances back and forth, maybe even a little nervous to meet Junhui’s eyes. He swallows thickly. “Y-Yeah. Um— I’ll see you later?”

Junhui nods. “Work hard, hyung.” He doesn’t hide his smile when Seungcheol sprints away.

—

Maybe this isn’t Junhui’s best idea. It might not be on the level of practice-kissing-with-your crush-without-said-crush-knowing-he’s-your-crush, but it could definitely be a contender for somewhere in Junhui’s top ten fuck ups. Of this year, at least—he has a tendency to set himself up for misery.

There are a few things he forgot to factor into watching Seungcheol practice, one of them being that Seungcheol in uniform is—it’s a lot. It’s more humid than normal today, the heavy heat making Junhui’s own clothes stick to his skin within the first half hour of just sitting around. Seungcheol, however, is actually exercising—he keeps having to wipe away the gathering sweat on his face with his jersey, lifting the collar to wipe at his skin and exposing a strip of his abdomen as a result. It only lasts for a few seconds at a time, _thankfully,_ but still uncalled for.

Seuncheol’s jersey, Junhui dreadfully learns, clings to his body and highlights each movement of his sculpted arms and back. Something in Junhui’s chest squeezes at the sight of bruises, some old and others fresh, dotting Seungcheol’s knees, and it makes him wonder if that’s why Seungcheol always wears jeans or sweats, even in the worst days of summer. Right now, though, Seungcheol doesn’t look embarrassed to be showing his legs for once. He’s got grass stains all over his clothes and there’s streaks of dirt covering his exposed limbs, but he’s beaming, eyes flaring with a competitive spark that makes him come off a little predatory. It’s a good look on him, Junhui has to admit. And if he ends up drooling over Seungcheol brushing his hair back more than actually paying attention to who has the ball, then that’s nobody’s business but his.

What Junhui isn’t expecting is for anyone else to be out here. He hears someone call out “Jun?” right as Seungcheol passes the ball to Number 7. When Junhui turns away, he sees Soonyoung and Minghao standing at the edge of the bleachers.

Junhui waves. “Hey, guys. What are you doing here?”

“Seungyeon ended practice early today because some of the first years weren’t feeling well,” Minghao answers. “I’m giving Soonyoung a ride back to his place. It’s quicker to walk through the field to get to the parking lot.”

“Oh.” Junhui nods. “Makes sense.”

“I didn’t know you were into soccer, Jun,” Soonyoung says, turning his attention to the field. “I’ve never seen you at the games.”

“Me neither,” Minghao says, a strange glint in his eyes. “I thought you said you had something to do after school.”

“I’m just waiting for Seungcheol to finish practice,” Junhui confesses a little sheepishly. “He wanted to go over some questions he had about his homework, I think.”

Soonyoung looks back at him, eyebrows drawn together. “You’re still tutoring him?”

Now it’s Junhui’s turn to furrow his brows. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Minghao cuts off whatever Soonyoung was about to say with a sigh. “I think everyone in class is going to need a tutor soon—we just got the date for our next exam and it’s got three chapters in it. I’m half tempted to drive off a cliff.”

Soonyoung makes a noise of protest. “Hey.”

“Relax, I’ll do it after I drop you off.” Minghao rolls his eyes.

Junhui’s mouth goes dry. “Wait, you guys have another test already?”

Just the idea of having to help Seungcheol prep for a new test is giving him a headache. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in Seungcheol’s abilities—the boy’s come a long way from their first lesson, at least he can describe valence electrons now—but he’s been tutoring Seungcheol long enough to know he isn’t a test person. No matter how much he has improved in classwork and homework, Seungcheol always comes back with a heavily marked test sheet and an apology, like he’s afraid Junhui will be disappointed in him. It makes Junhui want to rip those papers to shreds and hug Seungcheol until he’s smiling again.

Minghao nods. “He’s probably going to tell you about it later, but yeah. It’s in three weeks.” Junhui groans. “I’m guessing that means you’ll be spending all your free time at his place then, huh?”

Soonyoung shakes his head and sighs, tone mournful. “I don’t know who I feel worse for—Seungcheol trying to pass Chemistry, or Jun trying to _teach_ him Chemistry.”

Junhui snaps back with a weak “Hey,” at the same time that Minghao says, “Fuck them, feel bad for _me_.”

Minghao shrugs under Junhui’s glare. “You two get something out of your arrangement. _I_ have to teach myself everything and deal with the both of you for free. I’m allowed to bitch.”

“I told you I could help you with your work, too,” Junhui frowns.

“You stretch yourself way too thin with all of your favors,” Minghao says. “I’m doing fine in class, don’t you worry about me. Seungcheol needs all the time you can give him.”

“He’s not that hopeless…” he mumbles, a little distracted by the sight of Seungcheol wiping sweat with his shirt again. “We’re working on it.”

Minghao hums, eyes narrowed slightly.

Soonyoung stares at the two of them for a second. “Am I missing something?” Junhui’s tempted to ask the same thing. He thought Minghao was done being all mysteriously vague about this, but he’s not sure anymore.

“It’s nothing,” Minghao assures him. He wraps an arm around Soonyoung’s shoulders and nudges him. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to say to Jun the other day?”

“Oh!” Soonyoung flushes slightly, mouth drawn in a pout as he hurries forward to grab Junhui’s hands. “Jun, I’m so sorry about what happened at my party.”

Junhui blanches, hands limp in his friend’s grip. “You heard about that?”

Soonyoung nods. “Of course I did. We found out about the punch after Wonwoo tried it so I told Jeonghan to throw it out while I warned everyone about it, but you got a drink before anyone could stop you. Seungcheol told me he tried to get you to one of the rooms because you weren’t feeling well and that Minghao had to take you home.”

“Oh.” His shoulders sag in relief. “Y-Yeah, I don’t really know what happened. Some of my memories are still fuzzy.”

“I’m really sorry,” Soonyoung sighs. “I had no idea someone was going to bring alcohol, I should’ve checked if people were carrying things with them when they walked in. I thought I could trust them—”

“Soonie, it’s okay,” Junhui says. He rubs Soonyoung’s knuckles with his thumbs. “You didn’t know.”

Soonyoung huffs. “That _wasn’t_ okay, though! It was my party so it was my responsibility to make sure everyone would be safe. You could’ve gotten sick, or—or hurt.”

“Now you sound like Seungcheol-hyung,” Junhui laughs lightly. “Look, I appreciate your concern, I really do. But it’s not something you had control over, you can’t blame yourself for that. The person who spiked the drinks is an ass, yeah, but not you. And I’m fine now!”

Soonyoung still looks unconvinced. “Yeah, _now._ You should’ve seen Seungcheol when you and Minghao left.”

Junhui blinks. “Did something happen to him?”

“He went ballistic trying to find out who brought the alcohol.” Soonyoung pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut. “I tried to calm him down but he wouldn’t listen to anyone. He was just… angry. Like, mega strict dad mode angry. It was a little intense. But I guess it helped—he got people talking and found the guy not long after. They nearly got in a fight.”

Junhui glances over to the field again. Seungcheol’s sulking as a few of his teammates take turns ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks instead of focusing on the game beside them. When he notices Junhui staring at him, his ears turn red as he turns around to swat everyone away. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I think Seungcheol would’ve really punched him if Jihoon hadn’t found me in time. The guy’s my classmate in Physics, we did a group project together so I invited him. We made him leave after Seungcheol chewed him out for a bit.” Soonyoung tilts his head. “Did Seungcheol not tell you any of this?”

“No,” Junhui says faintly. Seungcheol sends the ball flying under the goalie’s legs, grinning when the goalie hits the dirt instead of intercepting. He accepts his teammates’ cheers this time with a laugh of his own, chest puffed out a little. Junhui feels a little light headed, tingly. “He didn’t say a thing.”

“Strange,” Soonyoung mutters. “Maybe he forgot to. He was really worried about you, you know.”

Junhui can’t stop staring at Seungcheol. “Yeah. I know.”

“C’mon Soonyoung,” Minghao calls out. “That’s enough talking. I still have a cliff to find.”

Soonyoung nods quickly. “Ah, right, right.” He smiles at Junhui and squeezes their hands. “I’m really glad you’re alright now. Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

“I won’t,” he promises, smiling a little.

“And I’m still waiting for you to try out for the dance team!” Soonyoung yells as he jogs down the bleachers. “We’re keeping a spot for you and Seungyeon doesn’t like cowards, so you better do it soon!”

Junhui groans. “I’ll think about it.” That seems to placate Soonyoung.

Minghao sighs, lifting himself from his spot against the fence and stretching. He waves a lazy hand to Junhui before steering Soonyoung away. “Have fun with Seungcheol.”

Junhui bites the inside of his cheek as he watches them leave. He doesn’t know what to do with this new information. It doesn’t necessarily surprise him to think Seungcheol would try to find out who spiked the punch, but that kind of reaction… there’s no reason for it. Then there’s the fact that Seungcheol has yet to mention any of this to Junhui. The least Junhui can do is thank him for going through all that trouble, but now it’s been a few days and he’ll look like some asshole for bringing it up so late. And there’s still the question of _why?_

Someone scores another goal while Junhui’s distracted in his thoughts. When Junhui looks up, he sees Seungcheol thumping Yuta’s back as the two jog towards the center of the field, a proud smile on his flushed face. Junhui takes a deep breath. Maybe he really did forget. Nothing serious happened, so it's better to just let it go and move on.

Junhui pretends not to feel his neck heat up when Seungcheol glances at him.

—

The first to greet Junhui once practice ends isn’t Seungcheol. It’s not Johnny either, although he’s nearby, leaning against the goal post as he peels off his goalkeeper gloves. It’s Yuta, a boy with piercing brown eyes the same color as the shaggy hair he has tied at the nape of his neck.

“Johnny said you’re Coupsie’s Jun,” Yuta says, mellow voice accented slightly. “Is that true?”

“I’m— I’m Jun, yeah, but I’m not… his?” He gestures to nothing. “I’m his friend. We live near each other.”

Yuta’s eyes glint in the sunlight, lips pursing slightly. “You’re neighbors, too?”

Junhui feels himself shrink back a little. “Yes?”

“So he _has_ been hiding us from you.” Before Junhui can ask anything, Yuta turns around enough to give Junhui a view of the _10_ on his jersey as he waves an arm above his head to the remaining people on the field. “He says they’re neighbors!”

Johnny bursts into laughter, head shaking as he points at Seungcheol, who just finished collecting all of the field markers. “And you said you _weren’t_ keeping him to yourself!” Despite the flush on his face from exertion, Seungcheol manages to pale.

Yuta grins. “Secret’s out.”

“What secret?” Junhui asks, more than a little unnerved by the look in Yuta’s eyes.

“You.” Yuta rests his arms on the fence to lean on them, that little smirk never leaving his face. “Seriously, we’ve been trying to find out who you are for ages but our friendly little captain didn’t want to _tell us shit_ —” he yells that part, causing Junhui to wince. “—so we’ve been hoping our mystery genius would finally show one day.”

Junhui shakes his head. “I’m not a genius.”

  
Yuta grunts. “You have to be if you can save Coupsie’s ass from failing Chemistry. You saw his first quarter test scores.” Junhui can’t really argue with that part. Seungcheol was barely hanging onto his C- when they started. If Junhui hadn’t offered to tutor him, chances are Seungcheol’s parents would’ve asked him sooner or later.

“Hey, since Coupsie’s grades are a lot better now—”

“They’re really not,” Junhui tries to say, mind flashing back to the _71_ written on Seungcheol’s exam paper from last month.

Yuta tsks. “Perfectionism or not, they’re _better.”_ He smiles again and Junhui has to wonder if this is what a perfect smile looks like because wow. It’s just wow. “So you’ll be done with him soon. When you’re free, you think you could help me with my Trig—”

The fence shakes violently as something clangs against it, and Yuta’s body jumps away.

“Aish—” Yuta finishes whatever he was saying in a different language, the harsh bite of his tone leaving little to the imagination. He motions to the offending soccer ball that was kicked at the fence and then to Seungcheol, who stands with his arms crossed and a nasty scowl. “You trying to break my ankles? _”_

“Just testing your high knees.” Seungcheol bounces another soccer ball on his foot, voice casual. “If you’re going to stay on the field, I figured we should keep practicing.”

“This is why we call you a tight ass, you know!” Grumbling under his breath in what Junhui’s pieced together to be Japanese, Yuta starts untying his hair as he faces Junhui. “He’s a child, I swear. I have no idea how you can stand him.”

Junhui laughs faintly and readjusts his glasses that had slipped when he jumped from the ball. “I think I just give him less stress than you guys. He’s nice to me.”

Yuta hums, head shaking as he smiles at the sky. “That's one way of seeing it, I suppose.” Before Junhui can ask him what he means, Yuta picks up the soccer ball and flashes him another grin. “I gotta go before Coupsie gets territorial again and kills me for real. And I’m serious about the tutoring thing—I’ll pay whatever you’re charging him.”

Seungcheol starts bouncing the ball on his knees, eyes narrowed.

“We can talk about it later,” Junhui says quickly, a little nervous for the boy’s wellbeing. Yuta gives him a thumbs up and jogs away, stopping only to shove the soccer ball into Seungcheol’s hands.

Seungcheol waits until Yuta is gone before turning to the few players left on the field. He jabs a thumb to the building Yuta entered without saying anything. The message is clear—everyone grabs whatever they need and starts walking. Johnny waves to Junhui with a smile when he steps out of Seungcheol’s line of sight.

Once everyone’s gone, Seuncheol’s shoulders droop and his face relaxes. He walks close enough that he doesn’t have to yell to speak but still keeps his distance. “Sorry.”

Junhui tilts his head. “Why are you apologizing?”

“For all of that. All of them.” Seungcheol grimaces. “They love embarrassing me.”

“Don’t be sorry. They seemed nice. Besides,” he grins, “I’ve got blackmail on you now, Coupsie.”

Seungcheol blinks, disbelieving. “I kiss you once and suddenly you’re evil.”

“Technically, it was twice,” Junhui says, just because he can.

“Never mind,” he groans. “You’re a smartass now. Even worse.”

Junhui snickers. “You love me. And hey, why are you standing so far away?”

“Oh. I’m kind of...” Seungcheol gestures to himself sheepishly. “Sweaty. It’s gross.”

“No it isn’t,” Junhui says. Maybe it is a little gross, but it’s easier than saying _I like having you close,_ and it’s not everyday he gets to see him in shorts, either. “Come on.”

Seungcheol pouts, bottom lip jutting out just enough to give him a puppy-eyed look. “But I smell.”

Junhui wishes he could kiss him right now, fingertips buzzing. “I don’t care.”

And maybe that desire to just touch Seungcheol is a little too obvious because something shifts in his eyes and he steps back. Seungcheol shakes his head lightly, as if brushing away a thought. “I really should shower and change first.”

“Alright.” Junhui tries not to sound disappointed. It’s his own fault, after all.

“I’ll be out in like, twenty minutes, okay?”

Junhui nods. An ache forms in him when Seungcheol walks away.

—

“You didn’t tell me I was something of a legend in your team,” Junhui says, gaze on the window he’s resting his head on. They’re driving to a fast food place because Seungcheol forgot to bring a snack with him today and he’s always hungry after practice, and Junhui’s not really against eating grease every once in a while. He’ll just pay in cash so his mom doesn’t see any charge on his card.

Seungcheol shoots him a look. “They make it sound like I talk about you all the time.” He taps a finger on the worn steering wheel, pensive. “I don’t. There’s just never been an opportunity to have you all meet.”

“I didn’t think they would even want to meet me.” He sighs when he sees Seungcheol frown. “I’m not calling them snobby or anything. It’s just—I’m your tutor, not your soccer mentor or whatever. I didn’t expect people would want to get to know me for that, of all things.”

“Believe it or not, Jun, but I’m ass when it comes to chemistry.” Seungcheol pauses for a few moments. Junhui stares at him expectantly and startles when Seungcheol huffs. “You’re supposed to deny it!”

“But you kind of were,” he giggles, inching back when Seungcheol raises an arm as a threat. “ _Were!_ I said _were!_ You’re a lot better now, really!”

Seungcheol looks unconvinced but puts his hand back on the wheel. “No thanks to you, anyway. And that’s why they wanted to meet you. They think of you as some kind of messiah for being able to bring my grade up. I have a feeling they probably thought I was cheating until they saw you today.”

“But that’s not fair to you,” Junhui says, frowning. “You get the concepts, you just need it explained to you differently. I’m not really doing that much—that’s all you, hyung. Besides, I feel bad that they think of me like that when you’re still struggling with tests. Which, by the way—” He narrows his eyes. “Minghao told me you guys have another test coming up soon.”

“Oh, right. That.”

“What about your last test? You still haven’t told me what your score was.”

Seungcheol scratches his chin, shrugging slightly. “She hasn’t finished grading yet, I guess. I should have it by the end of the week. You know how long it takes my teacher to grade.”

Junhui glances at him over the rim of his glasses. “You’re nervous.”

A scoff. “I am not.”

“It’s okay if you are,” he tries. “You know I’m not going to judge you if it’s not an A. I just need to know what to go over with you.” He nudges Seungcheol with his elbow. “And I wasn’t kidding when I said you’ve gotten better. I’m sure you did great.”

“And you call _me_ lame,” he grumbles, ears red under his hair. He turns left to enter the parking lot and pulls up behind a car waiting to order.

Junhui arches a brow. “Drive-thru?”

“You want to talk about making out by the kids in the ballpit?” He sees Junhui’s expression. “Didn’t think so.”

“We’re gonna make out?” That dizzy feeling is back. 

Seungcheol drives up to the intercom. “That’s up to you. Hence the private discussion. Now, what do you want?” 

It takes Junhui a second to realize they have to order, brain lagging to send signals to his tongue to work. When they reach the payment window, Seungcheol pays for the both of them— _I invited you, I pay. You can cover it next time._ Junhui tries to shove the money into his hand anyway—he can’t just keep owing him—but Seungcheol is faster, pinning his wrist down and pressing a few fries against the seam of Junhui’s lips until they part enough for Seungcheol to stuff them into his mouth. The salt burns at first, one fry going too close to touching the back of his throat, and it makes him reel back with a ragged sound. Seungcheol waves to the cashier while patting Junhui’s shoulder, smiling the entire time.

Junhui doesn’t fight him to take the money again, but he _does_ make sure he’s as noisy as possible every time he drinks his shake. Seungcheol just laughs.

—

“So, what are you looking for in a relationship?” Seungcheol asks once he parks in some dusty field near the outskirts of town, body angled towards him like a father trying to give The Talk to their child.

Junhui sets down the fry he was just about to eat to make a face at him. “Okay, never ask me that again.”

Seungcheol pouts then, shoulders drooping. “But I’m serious.”

“That’s what makes it painful, hyung,” he groans more to himself. He glances around their surroundings, unfamiliar with this area. “Why’d you choose this place, anyway? I’ve never been here before.”

“It was the only place I could think of for privacy. There’s never anyone here when I bring someone, so.”

“Oh. Alright.” Then that last sentence registers in his brain. “What people are you bringing here?” Seungcheol glances away briefly, apparently having enough decency to be somewhat embarrassed. Junhui feels himself pale. “Choi Seungcheol, did you take me to your— your _fucking makeout spot?_ ”

“Don’t call it that!” Seungcheol whines, ears heating up again. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, really? Then what do you do here with all your dates?” Silence. “I thought you said we were going to talk!”

“And we _a_ _re.”_ Seungcheol motions to their food frantically, still avoiding Junhui’s gaze directly. “I just wanted to eat and talk— _you’re_ the one that asked why I thought of this place!”

Junhui takes off his glasses to run a hand over his face. “You’re gonna give me gray hairs, I swear.”

“Oh my god, shut up already,” Seungcheol pleads, the flush starting to creep down to his neck. “I didn’t know where else we could talk, okay? It was either here or some abandoned parking lot. Which do you prefer?”

Junhui glances at the darkening sky, the sun starting to descend behind the distant buildings. “Fine, fine. But I’m not letting you live this down.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much,” he says dryly. “Now answer the fucking question—and _don’t_ say it’s lame.”

Junhui bites back from saying exactly that. He slumps in his seat, teeth nibbling on the plastic straw of his shake. “Why does it even matter?”

“Because that’s the whole reason why we’re even doing this in the first place,” Seungcheol says like it’s obvious, which, okay, it probably is. He taps two fingers to Junhui’s forehead. “You want my help with this crush of yours but I know nothing. I can teach you how to kiss, yeah, but if you want help with anything else, I’m going to need an actual idea of what I’m working with.”

A prickle of fear shoots up Junhui’s spine. “What do you need to know?”

Seungcheol’s gaze softens, a concern in his eyes that only makes Junhui more nervous. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not— I’m not trying to corner you or anything. You don’t have to tell me who it is. I’m just asking what exactly you want me to do for you. Because I’ll do it. Just… talk to me.”

Junhui stares at him wearily. He’s fucked, isn’t he? Seungcheol is staring at him so openly, patient in a way that is just so unfair. He sighs. “I don’t _know_ what I want, okay? I still don’t think this is even going to work.”

“But you want it to,” Seungcheol says softly. “You wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t at least a little hopeful.”

“That doesn’t make it any less pathetic,” he mumbles around his straw.

Seungcheol shakes his head. “You’re not pathetic, Jun. And liking someone doesn’t make you pathetic, either, even if you don’t think it’ll get anywhere. You can’t help feelings.”

 _Tell me about it._ “I know. It’s just—” He sets down his drink with a little too much force. “I have to be realistic about this.”

“You make it sound like you’ve already given up then.”

“I really want to.”

“But _why?_ You don’t even know if they could like you back, do you? Or have you asked?”

“I don’t need to ask to know, hyung.” A bitter taste forms in his mouth, burning his tongue and drying his throat. “I just know.”

Seungcheol pauses whatever he was going to say, eyes slowly widening. “What’s wrong? Junnie, what’s wrong?”

Something in him gives at that _name_. It doesn’t feel like a dam breaking, emotions gushing out of him in a relentless wave that sweeps him away and drags him down to drown in. It’s more like he’s being drained, liquid cement pumping into his veins and clogging his lungs, weighing him down, blurring his vision.

His voice comes out in a croak, gravel in his throat. “It won’t work if he doesn’t like boys, too.” He can’t see Seungcheol’s expression, but the silence is enough. “I don’t want to try if it means I lose him completely. For being this, for being _me_ —”

Seungcheol grabs his shoulders with shaking hands, forces Junhui to turn around. “You listen to me,” he says quietly, raw heat in his voice. Junhui looks him in the eye. It is a strange feeling, seeing the fierce blaze in Seungcheol’s gaze, realizing it isn’t borne from anger. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. And anyone who can't see that can go fuck themselves.”

It feels like admitting defeat, asking for atonement. It’s a little terrifying to realize how much Seungcheol affects him, how he would probably do anything he asked. “I’ve never told anyone that before.” Junhui swallows thickly, eyes stinging. “You can’t… Please don’t tell anyone. Nobody’s supposed to know, and I don’t— I’m not ready for—”

Seungcheol’s hands tighten and he pulls him closer until they’re pressed together, arms sliding to wrap around his back. It takes Seungcheol rubbing a hand over his spine to realize they’re hugging. His breath hitches when Seungcheol buries his face into the crook of his neck.

“I won’t,” he whispers, breath hot on his skin. “I promise.”

Junhui nods and clutches at the hem of Seungcheol’s shirt. “Okay,” he offers lamely, blinking away tears before they can fall.

“You’re amazing, you know,” Seungcheol says.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he mumbles.

“No.” His hair brushes against Junhui’s neck when he shakes his head, tickling a little. “I’ve always thought that. This doesn’t change anything. That was my point. You’ll always be amazing.”

Junhui stifles the sob that threatens to escape him by pressing his mouth to Seungcheol’s shoulder. When he can control his voice again, he says, “Thanks. For this. Everything. Thank you.”

Seungcheol smooths a hand over Junhui’s head. “Anything for you.” And now Junhui wants to cry all over again, stomach swooping. He masks the urge with a wet laugh.

“Cheesy.” Junhui jolts when Seungcheol pokes him in the side, tearing away from him with a squeak. “Dick.”

Seungcheol is unfazed. “Well.” He dodges Junhui’s hand easily, chuckling.

“Just eat your fries,” Junhui snaps with a roll of his eyes before putting his glasses back on. They don’t speak while they finish their food, sitting in a comfortable silence. It’s nice, just being here without having to say anything. Then again, Junhui thinks it’s always been nice to be next to Seungcheol. Does that count as a biased opinion?

When Seungcheol finishes eating, hands crumpling his napkin and trash together, he asks, “Do you still want to go through with this? I didn’t mean to pressure you into agreeing when I offered yesterday.”

“No—I mean, no to the pressuring thing.”

“So… you still want to keep practicing?”

Junhui fiddles his thumbs. “I don’t know. You know my problem now.”

“Don’t— Don’t call it that.” Seungcheol frowns. “It’s not a _problem_ to be gay.”

“It is if the person I like isn’t, though,” he sighs, exasperated. He's not about to get into the logistics of society's opinions right now.

“And how do you know for sure he isn’t? Has he specifically told you he’s straight?” Junhui can’t really answer that. Now doesn’t seem like a good time for him to say _you tell me._ Seungcheol takes a slow breath. “Are you close to him?”

Junhui blinks. “I guess, yeah.”

“Really close?”

He groans, all too aware of his warming neck. “I don’t know, maybe? What’s your point, hyung?”

“My _point_ ,” he emphasizes, “is that if you care about him so much, and he cares about you a lot too, and you two already have history together, then there’s a chance you just haven’t realized he likes you as more than friends.”

“I think I would know if my friend actually liked me,” he snorts.

Seungcheol gives him a dry look. “Just run with it, okay?”

“Fine. Supposing that were true, then _I guess, theoretically,_ I would have a chance,” Junhui sighs. “As abysmally small as it would be.”

“A chance is a chance, isn't it?"

Junhui huffs. “You’re not going to give this up, are you?”

Seungcheol considers his answer. “I want whatever makes you happy,” he decides eventually. “And if that means setting you up with this guy, then I’ll do my best to make it happen. Because you deserve that much.”

A heady warmth fills him like helium and leaves him a little breathless. “You sound like Minghao,” is what he manages to say, the only thing that comes to mind that doesn’t sound remotely like a confession.

The corners of Seungcheol’s lips tug downwards. “That’s not an answer.”

Junhui bites the inside of his cheek, weighing his pros and cons. There’s about a dozen cons that he comes up with right off the bat: _getting too attached, Seungcheol finding out, anyone else finding out, having to watch Seungcheol kiss other people when all this is over, this will all eventually be over_ —

Out of the corner of his vision, he sees Seungcheol wet his drying mouth.

“Okay." Pros are pros, and Junhui is a weak little bitch.

Seungcheol nods then. “Okay,” he echoes back. “Then we’ll keep practicing. Anything else you want to work on?” Junhui shakes his head. He doesn’t think he can handle trying to flirt with Seungcheol, much less handle Seungcheol flirting with _him._ “Alright. Just kissing.” Seungcheol presses a hooked finger to his lips, brows furrowed in contemplation. “Now… I think we went a little too fast for your first time.”

Junhui shakes his head slowly. “Too fast?”

“Like, that might have to be something we work up to.” He clears his throat. “Baby steps, you know?”

“Oh. Does that mean—” His face flushes. “Was yesterday… Was I bad?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Seungcheol splutters, a hand on Junhui’s wrist in an instant. “Y-You were fine. I just think that’s still intense for now? At least for a first kiss. Sorry if I ruined it for you.”

Junhui tries not to think about the implications of that _for now_. “You didn’t. It— It was nice.” More than nice, if his brain constantly replaying their kiss means anything. It’s not like he’s been wanting to do that for ages. _Wait, stop that._ He slips his glasses off and presses a hand over his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. A low groan slips out of his mouth. “Don’t make me talk about it.”

He hears Seungcheol laugh. “Why not?”

“It’s awkward, for one.”

“It doesn’t have to be. It’s just kissing.” Junhui slides two fingers apart to glare an eye at Seungcheol, who flashes him back a toothy grin. “Don’t give me that look. You’re just overthinking it.”

“Am not,” Junhui huffs.

“Oh really?” Seungcheol leans over, hand hooked around Junhui’s headrest to pull himself closer. “Then kiss me. Right now.” Junhui’s mouth parts a little, eyes widening as his words fail him. He shoves at Seungcheol’s shoulder, face in flames. Seungcheol moves back to his seat with a wicked cackle. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

Junhui rubs his sweaty palms over his jeans, scowling. “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

Seungcheol tilts his hand back and forth. “A little.” Junhui flicks his ear. “Okay, _ow._ Don’t be a brat.”

“I’m not. You’re just an asshole,” Junhui clarifies. “That was just to remind you of your place.”

“And what _is_ my place, exactly?” Seungcheol asks, face angled towards him. Junhui hates how good he looks like this—one hand on the steering wheel, a single brow arched, hair brushing over his eyelashes, and sunset on his skin, orange and pink and gold. Distracting, annoyingly distracting. It makes coming up with a smart answer impossible.

“I don’t know,” Junhui says. “Does it matter?”

The lines of Seungcheol’s face slacken, smoothing out into a blank expression. “No.” His words come out slowly, a careful exhale. “No, I guess it doesn’t.” There’s no heavy weight to them, no cold tone or anger behind his words. Just nothing. And yet, Junhui still feels a knot form in his stomach.

“Anyways, back to the matter at hand.” Seungcheol closes his eyes and leans his head back on his headrest. Junhui stares at his bared neck, eyes tracing the curve of his adam’s apple to the cut of his jaw. He’s barely listening. “We can start off slow, give you an idea of what kissing is like, and then we’ll… go from there. Once you’re used to it, everything else should come more naturally. We can use our tutoring days to practice.”

“How would that work, though?” Junhui asks. “Would there be enough time for everything?”

Seungcheol hums. “Are you in a rush to ask your guy out?”

Junhui shakes his head quickly, a second passing before realizing Seungcheol can’t see him. “No.”

“Then there’s enough time. It’s not like there’s much to do—you already have everything you need. You’re easy to talk to, super kind, smart, and attractive. Anyone would fall for you. I’m just here to make sure you get that. Build that confidence of yours.” Eyes closed, he can’t see the flush that crawls up Junhui’s neck. “It’ll be fine.”

 _He thinks I’m attractive_. Junhui beats down the stupid grin on his face and scoffs. He plays with his glasses for a few seconds, twirling the left temple between his index finger and thumb, before slipping them back on. “You do realize how much you sound like a crappy rom com right now, right?”

Seungcheol bats an eye open to glare at him. “Respect your elders, Jun.” Junhui just laughs, accepting the hand that smacks his elbow half-heartedly because it’s not like Seungcheol actually has it in him to use force behind anything. It’s why he never gets angry—sulky, maybe, but never true rage. He’s just too soft.

When the laughter dies down, Seungcheol’s hand is still there, fingers carefully encircling the soft skin of his arm. It’s embarrassing how quickly a touch can affect Junhui—his brain fills with static, eyes focused on where they’re connected. There’s nothing intense about it, no heated spark or anything magical, it’s just—warm. It feels nice. Junhui glances up at Seungcheol, hyper aware Seungcheol has been staring at him this whole time. There’s no heat to that, either, but it still makes Junhui feel naked, leaking heart displayed under a microscope for him to probe at. “Hyung?”

Seungcheol speaks simply. “I’m gonna kiss you now. Is that okay?”

Junhui blinks a few times, processing. This guy’s really going to be the end of him. “Sure.”

It’s just as gentle as last time. Seungcheol’s hand pulls him forward, grip loose enough that Junhui can move away at any time if he wants to. And he doesn’t want to, not really, but he also has no idea what he should be doing—if he’s even supposed to be. Seungcheol’s lips are soft, pressing against his with the faintest pressure, and it’s _nice_ but Junhui can’t help but think he’s messing this up. It’s a little awkward with how they’re leaning over, Junhui’s armrest digging into his rib, and Seungcheol won’t kiss him harder. That should be a good thing, expected, but apparently Junhui’s more desperate than he thought and none of this is going the way it should be.

Seungcheol pulls away slightly, hair brushing against Junhui’s forehead. “You’re nervous.”

Junhui bites his lip, starting to lean back into his seat as the urge to cry builds. “Sorry—”

The hand on his arm holds him in place, tugging him back in until Seungcheol can press their foreheads together. Seungcheol cradles a palm to Junhui’s cheek, his skin a little rough but not unpleasant. “Stop apologizing for everything,” he chides, thumb sliding down to pull Jun’s lip away from his teeth. “It’s not good for you.”

 _Like you’re any better,_ he wants to say, would say if Seungcheol wasn’t still thumbing at his lip. Which is—what the fuck—definitely not helping him calm down. Seungcheol hums. “Alright, talk to me. What’s up?”

This close up, Junhui can’t look him in the eye. The only options really are his mouth or the cup holders. He goes with the latter. “I don’t want to mess up but I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Seungcheol studies him carefully. “Nobody’s perfect at first,” he says slowly. “And most first kisses are ass. Usually it’s messy and awkward, maybe a little gross if you try to do anything, uh—advanced without knowing how. Movies make it look real nice and pretty but that’s because those people had practice. Mine was horrible.” Junhui gives him a look. “Really! I still had my braces at the time, and so did the girl. I was dropping her off at her house and she just—went for it. And then our braces locked together.”

Junhui laughs into Seungcheol’s palm. “Seriously?”

“ _Yes,”_ Seungcheol laments, shuddering at the memory. “The rubber bands in our mouth got knotted and I couldn’t move my jaw without biting her. She had to text her sister to take us to the orthodontist because neither of us could talk. It was the same doctor who ended up removing my braces later on, too. And he definitely remembered who I was.”

The idea of a tween Seungcheol stumbling into an office with a girl attached to him is—it’s a lot. Definitely humanizing, to say the least. “Loser,” Junhui snickers.

Seungcheol pinches his cheek, speaking over Junhui’s yowl. “My _point_ is that everyone messes up the first few times. Nerves are normal. And that’s why you have me. You’re going to get your mess ups out of the way now, figure out what works best for you, and then once you’re all confident and well-aware, you’ll get your perfect kiss with your crush. Then boom, happily ever after for you.”

Junhui bites on his tongue, regret bubbling in his stomach. Seungcheol’s taking this more seriously than he expected, but then again—this is _Seungcheol._ He’d never agree to anything without putting all of his heart into it. It just sucks his heart isn’t in this like Junhui’s is. But if Junhui can get past this, just make it through however long it takes to convince Seungcheol he’s ready, then he can pretend to go on some date and then “break it off” a few weeks later, tell him it just wasn’t meant to be. Apologize to Seungcheol for messing everything up, ignore Minghao’s questions, and things can go back to normal.

This could work. As long as he doesn’t slip up and get all into his feelings, he’ll be okay. What was it that Seungcheol said earlier? _It’s just kissing._ He needs to think of this the way Seungcheol is. Just a friend kissing a friend.

Bro things. Yeah.

Seungcheol’s staring at him. “Are you panicking again?”

Junhui shakes his head, exhaling slowly. “No, just thinking about what you said. You’re sure about this?”

“I am if you are.” Seungcheol looks away for a second. “But. I don’t know how often you want to practice… this.”

“Oh.” Junhui shrugs weakly. “Whenever, I guess? The sooner we finish, the better, right?”

“Yeah. The sooner, the better.” Seungcheol leans in one more time, pressing their lips together before Junhui can speak. His mouth is firm against Junhui’s, more insistent than their last kiss, but the hand holding his cheek is still gentle. When Seungcheol pulls away a second later, his hand moves to fix Junhui’s glasses before sitting back properly. “Then it’s settled.”

Junhui blinks, brain spinning and skin tingling. It takes a few tries for him to put his seatbelt back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise they actually get to kissing in the next update, which will hopefully be out soon? college has me swamped this week but we'll see for next week.
> 
> Feel free to clown me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ahlovejun).

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh i hope this isn't flat out horrible?
> 
> Feel free to clown me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ahlovejun).


End file.
